Killer Weekend

He carefully guided the tweezers between the second and third stitches, whispering, “Good girl,” into the dog’s ear. She tensed with a quick spark of pain. But it was over quickly as the tweezers bit down onto a length of wire and extracted it from her chest. Eighteen inches in all, extremely thin, aluminum, picture-frame wire. He wiped it clean with a piece of toilet paper. Ru

He pulled her to standing. The wire was all but invisible. He dabbed her slight bleeding one more time. It would have to do.

He heard a tremendous burst of applause from out in the hall. Elizabeth Shaler was being introduced.

He reached into the small of his back, pulled out the bag hidden there, and opened it. He slipped the jogging bra out and held it closely to the dog’s nose.

“Remember this game?” he said, a wan smile forming on his lips.

As he stood off the toilet, the bomb went off. He barked out a gasp of surprise, heat flooding through him. Then he realized it was only the toilet’s automatic flush. And he began laughing. A dry, morbid laugh that resonated and rang out in the small marble stall.

Eight

F iona came into the room behind Walt as he threw the curtains back.

“I told you to wait,” he said.

“And I didn’t listen.”

He inspected the closet. Clear.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the dog,” he said. “Not now,” when he realized he couldn’t explain.

He tried the bathroom door. It was locked. He knocked and peered beneath the crack with his flashlight. There was no one standing on the bathroom floor. He stood, reared back, and kicked it open. The door bounced off the stop and came back at him. He blocked its return.

Empty. But there was a bloody towel on the floor next to the toilet, and a mess on the counter: a syringe, meds, suture, a bloody razor blade.

“Walt…” She was scared.

“I see it.” He caught sight of the trail of blood leading to the tub. He pulled back the shower curtain, revealing a blond woman, her eyes fixed, her limbs twisted and contorted u

Fiona tried to speak, but stepped back and threw up on the carpet. She apologized immediately, the vomit still coming from her.

On the floor by the trash can he spotted several bloodied bandages and a pair of bloodied latex gloves. He saw the corner of a cardboard box beneath a bloody towel. The box read: ESS FENCE. Another piece of trash caught his attention: EverTyed Surgical Suture 3.0.

“You all right?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Call downstairs for Chuck Webb. Tell him what we found. Then tell him I’m on my way over to the i

“Got it,” she whispered.

“Keep your cell phone free. I may call back here. I may want details.”

“Details…,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he shouted, to break the trance. “Do you have your cell phone?”

She looked up at him and nodded.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay.”

Walt hurried down the long hallway to a set of fire stairs. A minute later he was outside and ru

Light and sounds blurred. The art fair. Kids playing. People shopping. Another day in paradise. He heard nothing but his own quickened pulse.

People turned to watch the red-faced sheriff at an all-out run.

He was passing through the outdoor mall when his cell phone rang. “Fleming,” he said.

“Walt.” Fiona’s voice. “It’s not her blood. She’s not cut anywhere I can see. Can you hear me? It’s not her blood.”

“Three-point-oh,” Walt said. “Large-animal suture.”

“The dog? He hurt the dog?”

He pushed himself faster. A teenage kid went by on Rollerblades.

Bursting through the doors, he alarmed the i

“Sheriff,” he spit out breathlessly.

He walked briskly through the metal detector, tripping the alarm. A meaty hand grabbed him by the upper arm, spi

“No weapons inside,” the man said.

“No time,” Walt said, out of breath. “The shooter’s in there. Where’s Dryer?”

“No weapons.” The two men faced each other. Walt knew where this was going. His father had warned him. He removed his gun, held it out, and broke the man’s grip. The gun fell. He took off, an agent close behind him.

Nine

P atrick Cutter watched from behind Elizabeth Shaler, savoring the moment. He saw a room of captivated faces and the unblinking eyes of the five television network news cameras given permission to record.

Liz Shaler spoke with authority and passion, animating her talk with her beautiful hands. “There is a growing abyss in this country, a divide between haves and have-nots that must finally be addressed. Those of us here today are fortunate to be in the former category, but that also puts us in a position of responsibility to have a critical impact on this country’s future. An obligation for improvement. I see a need for moral certitude, yes, but administered with a compassion promised by the present administration but never delivered. It is time we stand up and say, ‘If not me, who? If not now, when?’”

The audience erupted into applause. A good number jumped to their feet. Patrick allowed himself a smile.

Then he spotted a red-faced and out-of-breath Walt Fleming at the back of the room, and he knew he had trouble.

Walt paused only briefly at the door. Dryer’s men were likely on orders to keep him out of this room. He searched for Nagler, for the dog, as he walked away from the doors and toward a corner where he could get a look back at the faces. Much of the crowd rose in applause, blocking his view of the room. Then he spotted his father straight ahead. His father spotted him and shook his head as if to say, “You’ll never make it.”

Ten

W e stand at a threshold,” Shaler said from the dais, “a turning point where we can elect to go back or push forward. The choices have never been more clear…”

Cutter watched as some heads turned with the sheriff’s quick movement. Here was the very distraction he’d hoped to avoid-Dick O’Brien would hear about this! Shaler, too, took notice of the sheriff, angling her head slightly-looking for a possible sign. Now Dryer’s two agents, flanking the stage, picked up on him as well.

Liz Shaler pressed on: “We will find solutions with friends from both sides of the aisle. But find them, we will! The best days still lie ahead.”

More applause rippled through an increasingly divided crowd.

“It is no easy task what I propose. But I believe I am up to the challenge. Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the United States, I come here today to humbly offer you my services, as a fellow, concerned citizen, a former educator, a litigator, and yes: as a woman.” She paused and studied the crowd. “I offer you my candidacy for the president of the United States of America.”

Walt continued searching the room for sight of Nagler. The crowd jumped to its feet. He saw nothing but frantic waving and excited faces.

He risked a look back: two of O’Brien’s men, closing fast.

Walt reached Jerry and raised his voice over the thunderous cheering. “It’s the blind guy…maybe the dog is concealing a piece. This is for real, Dad. You’ve got to go with me on this.”

Walt met his father’s questioning look with absolute conviction and confidence.